


'Twas The Kidnapping Before Christmas

by PumpkinDoodles



Series: Merry Christmas, Baby [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: 12 Days of Christmas, Brock Would Say He's A Fixer, But Also A Little Light Kidnapping, Darcy Hates Clowns, F/M, Post-HYDRA Reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-09-07 00:28:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16843495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinDoodles/pseuds/PumpkinDoodles
Summary: Preoccupied with her holiday shopping and her peanut butter cookies, Darcy Lewis gets snatched at a mall. Her kidnapper is oddly chatty, for a taser-impervious, extensively-burned, ex-HYDRA mercenary. She thinks he's insane, he insists he's just a creative thinker with a talent for the extralegal.





	1. Not a Creature Was Stirring....

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NevermoreBlack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NevermoreBlack/gifts).



> I own nothing!

**_A few days before Christmas Eve..._ **

Darcy finished the peanut butter cookie dough and put it in the refrigerator to chill. “Jane,” she called to the astrophysicist, “I’m going to do some Christmas shopping while my dough chills.” The peanut butter cookies needed two hours to chill before baking. She might put Hershey’s kisses on the cookies, make them peanut butter blossom cookies. She hadn’t decided yet. She liked to leave things to chance. She always put her holiday iTunes playlists on shuffle, too. Surprises were nice.

“Hmm?” Jane said, looking up from her calculations. She was sitting at the table. Thor had done the dishes after dinner and was currently napping in front of their Netflix-supplied Yule fireplace. “Cookies ready?” Jane asked hopefully.

“Wishful thinking,” Darcy said, laughing. “My dough is chilling. I’m going to the mall.”

“Do you want us to go with you?” Jane said. The three of them had only recently moved to DC to join a revived, post-HYDRA Uprising SHIELD.

“Nah,” Darcy said. “I might be shopping for you.”

“Okay,” Jane said, frowning at her papers again. She liked to work things out by hand, but got grumpy when she was stuck. Hence, cookies.

Darcy got her winter coat and her messenger bag, plopped a toboggan on her head, and yelled “Goodbye, Jane! If Ian calls, tell him I’ll call him back! Don’t set anything on fire while I’m gone!” It was one of the reasons they’d stuck with a cheery streaming fireplace. Jane-adjacent fire safety.

“Bye, Darce,” Jane said absently. On the sofa, Thor snored happily. It had been an entirely unremarkable holiday season so far: no aliens, no Dark Elves, no men trying to take over the world because their fathers didn’t hug them enough, no mischief from Loki. Even Tony’s robots were behaving.

At the mall, Darcy caught a bad case of oniomania--a fancy term, she’d learned, for shopping frenzy--as she fell under the sway of twinkle lights, carols, and big glittery signs that said _50% Off._ She’d stocked up on Jane’s favorite bubble bath, fizzes, and lotion in that limited edition Vanilla Snowflake scent that Jane loved, got herself some new socks and a mug, and new scarves for everyone. They were expecting a winter front. Then she decided to hit up Williams-Sonoma for Thor’s favorite peppermint bark. After all, they all had new salaries and benefits packages, now that Fury was rebuilding SHIELD after that HYDRA Uprising. Darcy had big girl money. She’d never had big girl money before. Why not buy Jane some Sticky Paws as a reward for finally getting unstuck about SHIELD so Darcy could have a dental plan and solid health insurance? It beat her previous rules:

  1. Don’t get sick
  2. Remember to floss!
  3. Stop running into aliens and elves



Darcy was browsing the Williams-Sonoma with a basket full of fancy stuff, wondering if this was just what Pepper Potts did every single day, like Oprah, when she saw they’d set out samples. Darcy had been an intern long enough that she was practically Miss Free Sample, so she made a beeline for the cutting board on the little table. It was squares of cake in little cups. “Panettone,” she said out loud. They had tins of several different kinds: amaretto, pistachio, even one called Milano. Great names, she thought. She wanted to learn Italian one day, go to Venice. She and Ian were sort of engaged--he’d asked and she’d said yes, but nothing beyond that--and she’d thought about pushing for an Italian honeymoon. But he hadn’t even bought a ring yet. Unfortunately, there were no astrophysicists labs in Venice or she would have been already. “What is panettone?” she said, more to herself than as a real question.

“It’s an Italian holiday cake,” a male voice said. Darcy turned. A very scarred man was looking at her seriously. “It’s a sweet bread that you let rise for several days and then put things in. Chocolate, candied fruit, all kinds of things.”

“Oh,” Darcy said, not wanting to stare. It was rude to stare. There was something oddly familiar about him. Darcy assumed maybe she’d seen him on the news? There were a lot of scarred veterans who got treatment in the DC area or were part of fundraisers with Steve. She wanted to be kind, so she smiled brightly and asked if he recommended any particular type.

“How do you feel about sour cherries?” he asked, pointing to a blue and white wrapped panettone. “Some people love them, some people hate them.”

“You know,” Darcy said happily, “I don’t actually know. I guess this is my chance to find out, right?” She put the cherry panettone in her basket, then added another champagne one. “I’m spending a small fortune, but hey, it’s Christmas, right?” she said to the man. That was when Darcy realized he had disappeared. She shrugged, swiped a sample on his behalf, and went to the register.

She was still mind-boggled over the total as she lugged all her shopping bags out to the car and hit the button on her key fob that unlocked the trunk. She thought, _I can’t tell Jane how much I spent tonight, she’d die._ Suddenly, she felt a hand go over her mouth. “I want you to know this isn’t personal. Not at all,” a male voice said in her ear. Then she felt something press against her back. A gun, she thought. “Be very quiet and walk towards that black SUV over there. Act normally,” he said, removing the hand from her mouth to steer her in that direction. The gun was pressed more firmly into her back. The SUV in question was three spaces from her own. Darcy desperately scanned the parking lot. She’d parked near a department store entrance and there were less cars on this side. No people. Her hands were full of bags, so if she dropped them to reach for her taser, he’d realize and shoot her. A frightened Darcy wondered if she could hit him with the bags and run. She tried, but he seized her elbow in a tight grip. “No, no,” he said. “We’re going to put those in the trunk now. Pull the latch with your left hand slowly.”

“Okay,” Darcy said. “Please don’t shoot me.”

“I can promise you that won’t happen,” he said calmly. She deposited her bags into his trunk obediently. She was going to get her taser and hit him with all the voltage she had. “Shut the trunk slowly,” he said. She shut it, then reached for the taser. “All right,” he said, “back seat, passenger side, let’s go.” Darcy tried to shuffle slowly as she snuck her hand into the bag. Finally locating the taser, she lifted it as quietly as she could then tried to pull away and turn simultaneously. She got herself sideways and aimed at him. Everything happened quickly--she couldn’t see his gun hand, but she knew it was her only chance--so she aimed. She pulled the trigger and the taser electrodes landed on his shoulder. He looked down, bemused. “Not gonna work,” he said, pulling the wires away. “Sorry, I don’t really feel pain anymore, not since Triskelion.”

“Oh my God,” Darcy said, simultaneously recognizing him as the Panettone Guy and realizing why he’d looked oddly familiar. “You’re Crossbones?” she said. He’d escaped a DC hospital after the Uprising and been robbing banks and stuff. He’d been on the FBI’s Most Wanted List, an international fugitive, the whole shebang, for the last several years. She’d seen renderings of what he’d looked like with his injuries. They’d only had real photos of him in his new mask and pre-burned ones as a SHIELD agent and Navy SEAL.

“Yep, let’s go, kid,” he said, shuffling her towards the car. Darcy tried to scream then, but he picked her up easily and tossed her, stomach-first, into the backseat. She landed with an _ooof._ He climbed in behind her to zip-tie her wrists and ankles and remove her security tracker. Darcy kicked wildly, but he was incredibly strong. “Really, there’s no point. I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, shaking his head. He deposited something in the cupholder. A protein bar.

“Did you abduct me with a freaking protein bar?” Darcy said, realization dawning.

“Yeah,” he said, chucking. “Great idea, isn’t it? Everyone thinks it’s a gun from behind ‘cause they’re tougher than rocks, but if you get away, I’m unarmed and the cops think you’re a lunatic or a drunk. I have guns, of course, but you should only point a gun at someone if you actually want to kill them.” He got out and went around to the driver’s seat and cranked the SUV. “The more unharmed you are, the better it is for me, really. This is a standard kidnap and ransom,” he said. “I abduct you and send a money figure, your rich friends pony up some cash, I drop you someplace remote, unharmed, in a few days and we never see each other again, all right? I was looking for rich people outside Nordstrom’s when I spotted you, this is just dumb luck. You’re the most lucrative person in a ten-mile radius.”

“What are you talking about?” she said.

“You’re buddies with Stark, he’s rich, Thor has access to all the gold in Asgard’s vault, hell, I’m sure Foster has some science prize cash stashed someplace?” he said. “All of them will pay your ransom, kid and it embarasses Cap, too? I felt like Christmas came early when I spotted you looking at that waffle maker.”

“You’re insane,” Darcy said. “Insane.”

“So, you watch the news, huh? I thought people your age didn’t?” he asked. Crossbones had been all over the news. He pulled out of the parking lot and rolled up to a stop sign. “Oh,” he said, rolling down the window. He tossed out the tracker bracelet. “I almost forgot.”

“I’m twenty-nine,” Darcy said. “I watch the news.”

“Really? Huh, I thought you were twenty-three or something. You take good care of your skin, kid,” he said. He chuckled. “I should be so lucky. So,” he asked, “you get all your shopping done?”

“You’re a freaking sociopath,” she told him.

“Not really,” he said. Through the windows, all Darcy could see were passing buildings and Christmas lights. It had started to rain a little; it was slightly too warm for snow. “I’m really more of an opportunist,” he said.

“An opportunist?” she said.

“Well, you know,” he said, “I’ve just always had a knack for crime. Deception, doing something that you know isn’t quite legal.” He did a little _so-so_ gesture over the console, where she could see. “I was always that little kid who had to touch the thing that my Ma told me not to touch. It's the rush, you know? I started boosting cars when I was a teenager, worked for a chop shop guy. Never got caught, but my family knew. The Navy was supposed to straighten me out, my parents said. Teach me respect for rules, some discipline.”

“Did it?” Darcy said, playing along. Clearly, he wanted to brag about what a badass he was.

“Only in the sense that I ran a very efficient contraband and favors business,” he said in a sly voice.

“I thought you were a SEAL?” she said.

“How do you think I got there? Poor kid from the Bronx with no connections? You either have to be clean as a whistle or sneaky as fuck. Got on the good side of my commanding officers, so the people I’d gotten things for recommended me as an exemplary young man,” he said.

“Jesus Christ,” Darcy said. “You were a pimp? Or is that code for drug dealer?”

“Hey, I’m insulted. My specialty was getting people liquor and steak, letting ‘em use my apartment to see their girlfriends, booking their hotels under my name, that kind of thing. It’s practically innocent,” he said.

“So, you facilitated adultery, which is technically illegal in the military,” she said.

“But not real life. I facilitated fun, Lewis. I thought you’d like that story. Isn’t that what you do? Fix things for Foster?” he said. "Get her to have fun?"

“I get her Pop Tarts, not no-tell motels and bourbon, my dude,” Darcy said.

“C’mon, I know you’ve done a few illegal things,” he said.

“Have not,” she said stubbornly.

“Thor’s fake ID made itself, huh?” he said.

“I have no idea to what you’re referring,” Darcy said.

“Getting your British booty call to pretend to be Selvig’s son, so you could bust him out of that mental hospital was definitely illegal,” he said. “In several different ways.”

“He wasn’t my booty call, he was my intern and now we’re engaged,” Darcy said. So what if Ian hadn’t given her a ring yet and was spending Christmas in England?

“Picking up your intern may not be illegal, but it’s definitely unethical. You sexually harassed him with that kiss. I’ve seen the footage. He could sue, but instead the poor man proposed. Hasn’t he heard of that Me Too thing?” he said wryly. “Or do they not have that in England?”

“Shut up,” Darcy said.

“Doesn’t make it not true, honey,” he said, chuckling. They got on the interstate and drove for what seemed like hours. The SUV’s radio was playing holiday tunes when Darcy realized he’d turned off onto an unpaved road. They bumped along. Finally, he stopped, rolled down the window, and stuck his arm out. Darcy could see his arm through the gap between the driver’s seat and the door. Ahead of them, it looked like there was a metal gate. As he did something, she heard a sound. _Beep. Beep. Beep._ The gates rattled to life and began to swing inward and he pulled the car through. Darcy was startled when something loomed up too-near her window and flinched back. A clown’s face.

“What the hell was that?” she said. He chuckled.

“This is Joyland,” he said. “The old amusement park? It’s an abandoned HYDRA base. We used to run tactical training here.”

“Clowns,” she said dully.

“Yeah, why?” he said.

“I hate clowns,” she said. “I have a phobia.” She’d had to leave in the middle of _Cirque du Soleil_ with Ian, Jane, and Thor once.

“Oh, that’s too bad. I’m sorry,” he said.

“Sure you are,” Darcy said.

“I really am,” he said. “I’ll have to take Bozo out of the living room.”

“That better be a joke,” Darcy said.

“Only one way to find out,” he said, looking at her in the backseat and grinning.


	2. Visions of Panettone Danced in Their Heads...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos!

When he parked the car, he locked her in. “You’re leaving me here?” Darcy asked.

“I’m bringing in your stuff and sending the ransom email first. Does any of it need to be refrigerated?” he asked.

“No. Well, I don’t know about the panettone,” she said.

“Not unless you open it,” he said. She lay there as he made several trips in and out of the building where they were. She could hear dogs barking somewhere, but nothing else. It was astoundingly creepy. Around the clearing, there were a bunch of decaying clown sculptures.

“I hate clowns,” she muttered, trying not to stare at them. She’d have nightmares.

Finally, he returned. Rumlow pulled her out of the SUV by her legs and then flipped her over gently in his arms. When faced with the clowns, she squeezed her eyes shut. “You really have a phobia, don’t you?” he asked. “Maybe this can be exposure therapy for you, you know?”

“Bite me,” Darcy said.

“I’m serious,” he said. “I read up on it after my accident. It’s a kind of cognitive behavioral thing, you get used to doing or being around the thing that makes you nervous, then you’re fine.”

“You read about that?” she said, surprised.

“I spent twelve hours buried in rubble, I had to work on my new issues with confined spaces afterwards,” he said. “Now I’m totally fine in closets and car trunks. I practiced. My last record is four hours in a trunk.”

“Why?” Darcy said.

“You never know. This is the old manager’s building, so Pierce had it rehabbed as a place for himself to hang out between field trials. You like dogs, right?” he asked.

"Yeah," Darcy admitted. He swung the door open and that was when Darcy realized she’d heard the dogs because they were inside the manager’s building. They were barking from somewhere inside. She peeked. It looked like ramshackle, dusty place, stacked full of clown-themed horrors and odds and ends, so she shut her eyes again. He chuckled, then he went to a keypad and opened a second, obscured door. The door opened with a _whoosh._

“It’s okay now,” he said. “You can look. See? Normal apartment.” They were standing in what looked like the foyer of a normal, albeit luxurious, modern apartment. Everything was painted in a neutral palette of colors and looked very high-end. Darcy made a noise of surprise. “Yeah,” he said. “Pierce had expensive taste and spent a lot of money making sure his safe houses were as nice as his real house.” There was the sound of something sliding around the floor when he spoke. A large yellow lab barrelled towards them from an adjoining room and bounced up at her enthusiastically, followed by a tiny fluffy white dog.

“Puppies?” Darcy said, trying to suppress her happy response. The lab’s tail was thumping against the wall and the lab was bouncing up repeatedly to smell Darcy. The long-haired chihuahua was standing a few feet back, barking furiously.

“Get down, Gracie, get down,” Rumlow fussed. “You’ll scratch her.”

“Your dog’s name is Gracie?” Darcy said, shocked. It was such a normal, nice sort of name.

“Yeah. Well, she’s named for the Brazilian jujuitsu family, the Gracies. They’re famous in martial arts,” he said seriously. Of course they are, Darcy thought sarcastically. “The little one doesn’t have a name yet, he’s new,” he told her.

“You got dogs on the run?” Darcy said.

“I’ve had Gracie for years, she was my HYDRA dog--”

“I thought HYDRA people shot their dogs,” Darcy said, the words slipping out before she could stop herself. He looked at her, frowning.

“Man,” he said, “you really believe my TV act, huh? I wasn’t killing my dog for anybody, I’m not a sociopath, Lewis, I’m just burned like one. Half the people didn’t, anyway. They gave their dogs away or hid them.”

“Oh,” Darcy said, grinning in spite of herself. Gracie was licking her hands, still bound behind her.

“Gracie,” he said, “stop slobbering on the company.”

“I don’t mind,” Darcy said. “Where’d you find the little one?”

“That asshole Wade Wilson was trying to hone in on the cash during one of my jobs and threw him at me, poor fella. He would have been hurt if I hadn’t caught him,” he said.

“Deadpool?” she said.

“He’s not as crazy as he pretends to be, either. But you know, with the burns--” he trailed off.

“Oh,” Darcy said, as he carried her into a living room and sat her on a couch. The two dogs followed him. There was a coffee table, a TV, and a kitchenette.

“You want panettone?” he said. He was unpacking her panettone.

“Are you going to un-zip tie me?” she asked. “That’s sort of crucial to eating?”

“Sure,” he said. “But no trying to stab me with your fork or hurting the dogs, all right? Those are the rules.”

“I would never hurt a dog,” Darcy said. Gracie licked her face and Darcy grinned.

“Yeah, I heard the omission there, Lewis,” he said. “You want wine with this? Or coffee? Panettone is usually served with coffee or sweet wine.”

“Are you going to poison me?” she asked.

“I’m not leaving poison where the dogs could get to it,” he said.

“I heard that omission, too,” she snarked back.

“I’m gonna see what Pierce left us in the wine fridge,” he said.

“There’s a wine fridge? This is a fancy bunker. Weren’t you his favorite person?” she called.

“No, he hated me,” Brock said. “Didn’t like my tattoos or my attitude.”

“Did he tell you if you could lean, you could clean?” Darcy said archly.

“Something like that,” Rumlow said. “You like prosecco? Prosecco’s traditional with panettone.” 

“Only if I get to watch you open the bottle? How do you know it’s not poisoned, anyway?” she asked.

“Because Pierce didn’t particularly want to die, he wanted to run the world,” he said dryly. He opened the bottle in front of her. “Here, I’ll be your guinea pig.” He drank some first. They waited five minutes. “See? Not dead,” he said.

“Wonderful,” Darcy said.

“What would you have done if I was?” he asked.

“Gotten out of these zip ties, then removed your dogs from the vicinity of anything poisonous, and called Jane and Thor to come get us,” she said.

“Us?” he said.

“Me and the dogs. Maybe I’d call you an ambulance,” Darcy said.

“All of that is the correct answer, Lewis. You get panettone,” he said. He brought her giant wedge of sour cherry panettone and a cup of prosecco, then cut the zip ties from around her wrists and helped her sit up. He left the ones on her ankles. “No trying to get some of her cake,” he told Gracie seriously. Gracie and the unnamed chihuahua were giving Darcy sweet, pleading eyes.

“The correct answer?” she said, midway through her first bite.

“Yeah, I don’t need your hostage money if I’m dead and I do need somebody to take the dogs. I don’t have a backup person to come get ‘em if I die. Jack used to be Gracie’s dog-sitter, actually,” he said. Jack Rollins had been Fury’s secret triple agent. He’d made it out on the helicopter with Natasha and Sam. “You miss Jack, don’t you?” he said. Gracie wagged her tail in recognition.

“You were really friends with Jack?” Darcy asked.

“Yeah, I mean, as much as you can be when all your colleagues could put a knife in your neck at any given moment,” he said. “I considered him a friend.”

“You’re not mad he was a double agent?” Darcy said. He shrugged.

“Nope.”

“I thought you were a devoted HYDRA person. Sam Wilson said--” Darcy began. He started to laugh.

“Wilson? The kid with Cap? That’s fucking hilarious. He’s going around telling people I’m a die-hard? Man, this is great for my reputation as Crossbones. What else did he say?” Rumlow asked, grinning and drinking his wine.

“You gave him a big speech about there being no prisoners with HYDRA?” she said.

“Oh, yeah, I was hoping he would choose to run. I was just trying to get upstairs at the time, I didn’t really give a shit. I was totally kicking his ass, though. Then, _boom,_ helicarrier. Ironic, right?” he said.

“You launched them,” she pointed out. He frowned.

“Yeah, that was no fun, really. I didn’t think it would actually happen,” he said.

“Explain that one to me?” Darcy said, drinking her prosecco.

“I joined up to get promoted at SHIELD. I hit a wall in the system. You had to be HYDRA to get on STRIKE. So, I joined up. Well, Pierce doesn’t tell you it’s HYDRA at first. That would be nuts, because someone would rat you out immediately. They come to you with whatever you want. For me, it was a special ops training program that was required to be STRIKE, for other people it was a secret think tank, yadda yadda yadda,” he said, swirling his wine.

“But you stayed in,” Darcy said.

“You think they let you leave? It wasn’t a country club, Lewis. I liked living. Besides, I was a mole inside SHIELD, so I mostly ran STRIKE like a standard tactical team,” he said. “Pierce had all these grandiose plans, I never thought they would really happen. Washington is full of people like that. One week, it’s the flat-tax guy, the next week it’s somebody throwing tea in the Potomac pretending to be a Founding Father, all kinds of shit,” he said. “Insight seemed really implausible at first.”

“You thought he was kidding?” Darcy said, dumbfounded.

“No, but I thought he would be unsuccessful,” he said, sighing.

“Are you literally trying to tell you didn’t want all that stuff to happen?” she said. He poured her another glass of wine and worked his jaw.

“Why do you think I picked Cameron fucking Klein? I thought he would be the most likely to fumble the passcodes or decide to stand up to me at the last minute,” he grumbled. “I was trying to delay that shit. Carter was a...complication.”

“You entered the passcodes!” Darcy yelled drunkenly. Wine had made her brave--or stupid.

“There were five moles in that room, kid,” he said. “Any one of them would have shot me.”

“And you like to live,” she said.

“Yeah, I do. And like I said, I mostly ran STRIKE Alpha like a regular job,” he said.

“Except for Bucky,” she pointed out. She’d heard about Bucky. Now he was hiding out in Wakanda.

“Except for Barnes,” he said, sighing. “What are you, the human debate generator?”

“You let him be brainwashed,” she said stubbornly.

“Hey, I tried--” he began, then shut his jaw abruptly when Darcy gasped.

“It’s true!” Darcy hissed. “Jack thought you did something to the chair once--”

“I’m getting more fucking panettone,” he said glumly, getting up.

“Did you actually try to let Bucky go?” she said.

“Just for that, I’m eating all your panettone, got that? You overpaid for that,” he said. He totally had, Darcy realized. Jack had told her some story about catching him messing with the chair once. The bolts had been loose and the voltage had been adjusted, which would have made it easy for Bucky to run. Jack had speculated that Brock either wanted Bucky gone or was hoping he’d kill Pierce and he’d be promoted.

“I know,” she said. “Williams-Sonoma is so expensive. I didn’t know it was my first and last panettone.”

“I’m not going to kill you, Lewis,” he said. “My dog likes you too much.” Gracie had her head in Darcy’s lap.

“Can we open another bottle?” Darcy said. Secretly, she thought maybe she could bail peacefully if he passed out. She didn’t know if she should take the dogs thou--“Wait, if Jack was Gracie’s dog-sitter if you were hurt, how did you get her back?” Darcy said out loud.

“He brought her back to me,” Rumlow said. He’d begun opening another bottle of wine.

“He’s not supposed to know where you are!” Darcy said, stunned.

“He doesn’t now,” Rumlow said, grinning slyly.

Darcy realized she was thoroughly smashed somewhere after her second huge slice of panettone and fourth glass of wine. They were deep in Pierce’s fridge. “What did you mean about burns and Deadpool?” she asked. She could tell Rumlow was wasted, too, because he waved his wine around and started to speechify.

“People expect being injured or disfigured to make you mentally unstable,” he said. “It’s a whole cultural thing. A stereotype. The media eats it up, too. Me, Deadpool, that Killian guy who tangled with Stark. It still kills me that people assume Killian was crazy to start with, because, what, he had asthma and a limp? Meanwhile, he does this Extremis thing, that literally turns everyone it touches into a rage monster, but no, the root insanity issue is that he had, you know, difficulty breathing and walking? C’mon. Then there’s the fictional versions, like the Joker--

“Or Harvey Dent!” Darcy supplied. She was holding the little chihuahua. She loved this dog. He was so sweet. His little tongue was like sandpaper and he blinked at her adorably. The chi looked at her more sweetly than Ian had during their whole relationship.

“Exactly,” Brock said enthusiastically, pointing at her. On the floor, Gracie wagged her tail. “Exactly! Got it in one, babe. In real life, he would have been trying to stay the DA and been gently pushed out because juries got distracted by his burns, not robbing a bank, let me tell you, sweetheart. It wouldn’t have changed his essential personality.”

“Oh, yeah, that was super messed up, that whole character,” she said. Gracie got up to kiss her and Darcy laughed.

“Everyone expects you to be crazy,” he said. “I just pretend to be crazy because that’s what they expect, me to have vendettas and shit--”

“Yeah?” Darcy said. “You don’t really want to kill Steve?”

“Not particularly. I mean, it’s fun to imagine him all pissy and disappointed,” he said, chuckling. “He took my job, you know that? I fought and clawed and fucking compromised myself to run STRIKE and then, boom, one day they thaw him out from FDR’s day and I’m the fucking second lieutenant now?”

“That sounds resentful,” Darcy said, giggling.

“Nah,” he said, “I do miss my old face sometimes. If I had my old face, I could be a much cooler bank robber. People would fucking love that. I could be John Dillinger.”

“Like the Johnny Depp movie,” Darcy said.

“You’ve seen that?” he said.

“What else do you need to know?” Darcy said, parroting her favorite scene. He chuckled.

“I love that movie. Dillinger had integrity,” he said.

“He shot people,” Darcy pointed out.

“Everyone you know has shot somebody, except Foster,” he said.

“Only because I won’t let her have a gun,” Darcy admitted.

“I’m stuck with this face, though.” He sighed. “It means people expect me to be nuts. I get more media if I play along, give them what they want, let them think this”--he gestured to his burned face--”means I’m crazy. I’m the same guy, I just look different, you know? There’s this idea that being disfigured marks you as nuts ---”

“You’re talking about feminist disability studies,” Darcy said, nodding firmly. She’d taken a seminar at Culver on feminist narratives in literature and used some feminist-influenced disability theory when she wrote about _Jane Eyre_. She was just wasted enough that remembering it seemed especially profound and important.

“Say what now?” he said.

“Rosemarie Garland-Thomson! She writes all about that. She has a whole book called, uh, shit, what was it called? _Excepti--_ no, _Extraordinary Bodies,_ ” Darcy said. “Frida Kahlo is on the cover--”

“Feminist disability studies?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Darcy said, giggling as Gracie licked her face more enthusiastically, "It’s not medical, it's like, ummm, the social and cultural aspects of being disabled or different? How people treat you, stuff like that? She uses literature, art, all kinds of things. Frida was badly injured in a bus crash, had to have all these surgeries, nobody remembers that, they just remember the damn eyebrows---”

“How do you know about that?” he asked.

“I used her work in a seminar once,” Darcy said. The little chihuahua sniffed her curiously and then licked her face gently. “He needs a name. Why don’t you give him a name?”

“You pick one,” he said. He chuckled.

“What?” Darcy said.

“I let Cap go a few times. I totally saw him kissing Romanoff in that fucking mall. Kissing don’t make you invisible,” he said.

“They kissed?” Darcy said. “Nobody told me!”

“That’s because he and Barnes are a couple, babe, it was a nothing kiss,” he said. He made a dismissive noise.

“No way!” Darcy said.

“Yes way,” he told her, refilling his wine. “He was never interested in Romanoff’s set ups, that kiss was decidedly lukewarm even though most men would give their right arms to kiss Romanoff, and yet, the minute he sees Barnes he goes all swoony?” Brock said.

“Are you being homophobic right now?” Darcy said.

“No, no. I just wish he would have told Romanoff the real reason. I wanted to date Lisa from Statistics and Romanoff got her hopes up about Cap and she wouldn’t give me the time of day,” he said.

“Oh, I’m sure _that’s_ why she wasn’t interested,” Darcy said sarcastically.

“Excuse me, I was incredibly handsome. I was _the guy_ on STRIKE,” he said.

“Until Cap came along,” Darcy snarked.

“I lost what would have been two good years of women to that man and he didn’t even touch ‘em. It’s a damn shame,” he said dryly. Darcy snorted.

"But you'd still be a bank robber, just a more suave one?" she said.

"Hell, yes. I'd be so fucking cool. I'm good at stealing things," he said. Darcy scoffed. "Hey, I stole you," he pointed out.

"It's too bad I don't come with dye packs," she said.

"That's not what that is?" he said snickering. Darcy looked down.

"Shit," she said. She'd spilled red wine on her shirt.


	3. There Arose Such A Clatter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos!

“The ransom demand came by email a few hours ago,” Jane told Steve. They were standing in a SHIELD conference room. Thor was frowning. They’d patched Tony in by video, so his face was large and worried on the screen.

“Point Break, what’s your all-seeing eye say?” he asked.

“Heimdall cannot locate her because I cannot locate Heimdall,” Thor said bitterly. “He is feuding with Loki, who is presently disguised as my father. My father is in Odinsleep and the BiFrost is being guarded by someone called Skurge.”

“Skurge?” Steve said, eyebrows raised.

“It is very complicated, my friend. The matters of political difference and succession on Asgard,” Thor said.

“Fucking Asgard…” Jane muttered to herself. Steve would have mentioned language, but he could see that Jane was in distress. Also, she would probably hit him.

“Family drama?” Tony said. “The gift that keeps on giving, especially this time of year.”

“Aye,” Thor said.

“We’re certain this is Crossbones?” Steve asked.

“Yes,” Maria Hill said. “The email had an encrypted audio message. I could recognize his voice. He’s asking for $35 million in untraceable funds and then $5 million in cash and he’ll drop her unharmed.”

“It’s definitely him,” Jack Rollins said quietly. He was feeling guilty; he’d delivered Brock’s dog to a meeting post-Triskelion hoping that Brock would disappear someplace, not become an infamous criminal figure. He’d listened carefully to the weird, crackling audio and the creepy whispered message.

“SHIELD recently froze his accounts in the Caymans and Switzerland, so he may be more desperate than usual,” Hill explained. “The banks finally agreed to cooperate with us.”

“Great, so he’s extra mad at SHIELD right now?” Jane said angrily. “Who thought that was a good idea?”

“It’s standard procedure,” Steve said gently. They were talking about potential traces and possible HYDRA locations when there was a beep.

“Incoming video,” Tony called. “JARVIS, will you play video over my connection?”

“Yes, sir,” the AI said. The screen with Tony’s face went dark, then another image emerged. It was Brock Rumlow in his Crossbones mask. He was recording video. Over his shoulder, Darcy was visible, tied to a chair. She was gagged. The rest of the room was empty and featureless.

“Oh, God,” Jane said. “She’s hurt.” There was a large purplish stain on Darcy’s shirt.

“I think that looks like wine, Jane,” Tony said, “not blood.”

“Blood is more brownish,” Hill supplied. Steve frowned. On the video, Crossbones was adjusting the camera. Behind him, Darcy rolled her eyes.

“Hello, folks,” Rumlow began ominously. “I hope this message finds you well. I have your nice little friend here. As you can see, she is unharmed but I cannot guarantee--are you giggling? Why are you giggling?” he said, turning back and walking over to Darcy and removing the gag.

“Hello, folks?” she said, laughing. “Why’d you say that?”

“It sounds more threatening. You don’t think it’s good?” he said.

“You sound like Clint’s Grandma Barton,” she said.

“Well, what would you suggest, babe?” he said.

“Evil cackle?” Darcy said, demonstrating with a ha-ha-ha.

“I’m not a witch,” he said. Darcy giggled.

“Loki says that allllll the time, but I still think he’s a witch,” she said. She was smiling and giggling. Her cheeks looked flushed and her eyes were slightly glassy. “Or a wizard? I wonder what the difference is between wizard and warlock?” she asked.

“You know, I don’t know,” Rumlow told her onscreen, scratching his head. He sounded thoughtful.

“Tell me again why we stopped eating cake to do a video if you already sent the email?” Darcy asked him.

“So, they’ll pay faster and you get home for Christmas,” he said.

“Okey-dokey,” Darcy said. “I got presents to wrap.”

“You thought this would be a good idea, too, remember? You told me you could act,” he said.

“I didn’t know I’d have to share the stage with you,” she joked. He laughed.

“Oh, yeah, you’re a great actress,” he said.

“I’m still great, it’s the ransom demands that got small,” Darcy said, paraphrasing _Sunset Boulevard._ “How much are you asking for me, anyway?”

“Enough to retire, kid,” he said.

“Are you going to open a bar in Key West?” she said. “Like _Tango and Cash_? Or was that the one with the red slobbery dog?”

“That’s _Turner and Hooch_ ,” he said.

“That was a cute dog. I love dogs,” Darcy said. “I rescued them in New Mexico.”

“I know, it’s in your file,” he told her.

“I was brave,” Darcy said.

“Yeah, you were,” he said. Darcy grinned at him. They looked at each other. 

Offscreen, Steve and Maria stared at the video. “Is she drunk?” Hill said.

“It looks like it,” Tony’s voice said.

“I don’t understand,” Jane said. On the screen, Darcy was still giggling. The FBI’s most wanted criminal was looking at her through his mask. It was eerie, Jane thought. Frightening. Why was Darcy not more frightened?

“This is weird,” Tony said. “I was a hostage once. There wasn’t this much laughing.”

“Nope,” Steve said, frowning.

“Perhaps they have made friends?” Thor said hopefully. Steve shook his head.

“You don’t make friends with Brock Rumlow, Thor,” he said. In his chair, Jack shifted uncomfortably.

"I might be wrong here, but it looks like they're having a moment," Tony said. 

"Tony--" Jane said sharply.

“I need more panettone!” Video Darcy announced. Everyone looked at the screen.

“Champagne or sour cherry?” he asked.

“Champagne,” she said. “I love champagne! It’s the best best thing, you know?”

“Okay, I’ll get you some, but we have to do this seriously on the next take, my buzz is wearing off,” he said. It sounded like he yawned under the mask.

“Drink more!” Darcy advised. He laughed and walked out of frame.

“You want another one?” he said, from somewhere off camera.

“Yeeeeeeeesssssss,” Darcy said. Onscreen, she hummed and shimmied, singing carols to herself. “A marshmallow wooooooooooooorld!” she sang. Then Darcy looked up, as if startled by a sound. “Oh, look, Gracie pushed the door open. Awwwwwww.” A large yellow lab bounded into the frame and began kissing Darcy. The dog’s tail wagged. “Hey, Gracie, sweetie. She wants to be in the video, Brock!” Darcy yelled. “Gracie, where is your friend?”

“No name dog is asleep on your scarf out here. My dog cannot be in the video,” he said, coming back into frame. “C’mon, Gracie,” he said affectionately. Gracie wagged her tail. He’d pushed his mask up on his head, so that was the first time anyone in the SHIELD conference room--with the exception of a guiltily silent Jack--had seen his face. There were audible intakes of breath.

“Holy shit,” Tony said. “What happened to him?”

“Helicarrier collapsed a building on top of him, mate,” Jack said quietly.

“Don’t make her gooooo,” Darcy said on screen. “Please?” Rumlow sighed heavily and knelt to remove the zip ties holding her arms. She grinned down at him.

“We’ll take a break,” he said.

“A panettone break?” Darcy said. When he nodded, she grinned. “I want Gracie in the video!”

“Lewis, babe, you know it would be bad for my image as Crossbones if people knew about Gracie,” he said. She giggled.

“Lewis, babe?” she said. “You sounded so much like Johnny Storm then, that’s hilarious. Do that again,” she said.

“You’ve met Storm?” Rumlow asked.

“One time,” Darcy said, holding up one finger and swaying gently. “A Stark charity fundraiser. He tried to touch my boobs, the asshole.”

“Did you tase him?” Rumlow asked, frowning.

“Nuh-uh. My taser wouldn’t fit in my bag, so Jane smacked him, like this,” Darcy mimed. Rumlow had to duck. He laughed.

“Good for Jane,” he said.

“I miss Jane!” Darcy said.

“I know, we’ll get you back to Jane soon, sweetheart,” he said, removing the ties on her ankles.

“Jane!” Darcy said, waving at the screen. “There’s peanut butter cookie dough in the fridge! 350 for eight minutes! Eight minutes! She’s forgets if I don’t tell her things--” Darcy tilted sideways slowly and he had to catch her.

“Whoa, whoa,” he said. “I’m cutting you off, Lewis.”

“Booooooo! I don’t wanna be cut off. Bite him, Gracie,” Darcy told the happy-looking labrador.

“She’s not gonna bite me,” he said, chuckling. “Here, I’ll carry you.” He slipped his arms under her legs and scooped her up.

“ _Lewis, babe_ ,” Darcy repeated in a Johnny Storm voice, giggling and leaning against him.

“You know Storm and Cap are actually third-cousins, twice removed or something,” Rumlow said. “Cap hates when you mention it. Thinks Storm is the family embarrassment.”

“Steve would never touch my boobs without my permission!” Darcy said.

“Nope,” Rumlow said, chuckling and shifting her in his arms.

“He won’t even touch my boobs with my permission, I’ve tried,” Darcy said.

“You harassed Cap?” he said.

“Uh-huh,” she said.

“This is a story I want to hear,” he said.

“Okay. Can I still have cake?” she asked.

“Of course you can,” he said indulgently.

“Well, there was this party at Tony’s--” Darcy was saying. They moved out of frame, followed by the panting dog. Gracie’s tags jingled. The camera remained focused on the empty chair and blank wall for twenty minutes. It was possible to hear Darcy’s voice talking animatedly and Rumlow laughing. Eventually, they returned and did a brief, semi-serious version of Rumlow’s hostage demands, marred only by the appearance of a small chihuahua in the last thirty seconds. It wandered behind Darcy’s chair, looked at the camera for a moment, and continued to walk away. Then the camera was turned off. Or the battery died. It was difficult to tell.

“What the hell did I just watch?” Tony asked.

“I have no idea,” Maria said.

“I think they are friends,” Thor said. “She has a talent for making friends.”

“People, I don’t care if she’s made friends with her abductor, I want her out of there,” Jane said firmly.

“I’m with Jane on this one,” Steve said.

“You want half and half in your coffee?” Rumlow asked her, when he’d come back from sending their video file. Darcy had briefly passed out on the couch, then been roused by Gracie slobbering on her face.

“Yes and two sugars please. You’re making me coffee? This is the most fun I’ve ever had during a kidnapping,” Darcy told him, giggling. “Gracie, I love you. You kiss like my first boyfriend.”

“What?” he said.

“His name was Teddy Sacks and he slobbered all over me,” Darcy said.

“No, I didn’t realize--you’ve been kidnapped before?” he said.

“Attempted kidnappings, twice. Once I tased the guy, the second time Jane got Grant Ward with my mini waffle maker,” she said.

“Mini waffle--Grant Ward?” he said, sounding confused. He’d had a lot to drink, too.

“I bought a mini waffle maker for funsies,” she explained. “We have Waffle Wednesdays with that shake and pour batter? Grant Ward was supposed to be our temp security guy for a conference one time and he turned out to be HYDRA, but you know that, right?”

“He was a major league asshole. Total prick,” Rumlow said, spilling a little of his coffee as he brought the mugs. “Shit,” he said.

“Whoops,” Darcy said, slurping some from her mug. “This is good coffee, my dude.” She watched as he cleaned up the spill.

“Thank you. I’m sorry about Ward. I always hated that little schmuck,” he said.

“His thick skull broke my mini waffle maker,” Darcy said. She looked up at him--Brock was making an oddly serious, intent face--and laughed. Brock laughed with her.

“Oh God,” he said, sinking down onto the couch next to her, “I’m going to be so hungover tomorrow.”

“We can eat more panettone and not move,” Darcy suggested.

“That’s a good plan,” he said.

“I’m good at plans. I had a plan for tonight,” she said.

“Oh, yeah? What was your plan?” he asked, grinning.

“Wait til you passed out, steal your keys, run away, probably take your cute dogs,” she told him, turning her head to look at him. They were both leaning back against the couch.

“Well, you’re not allowed to do that,” he said.

“No? Why not?” Darcy said.

“You’re too drunk to drive, Lewis. You can’t take my dogs and get a DUI,” he said mildly.

“I don’t want to go now,” Darcy confessed, leaning her head against his shoulder. “I’m having fun.”

“Yeah?” he said. She looked at him. They shared a moment of eye contact. Darcy leaned forward, her eyes on his mouth. When she kissed him, she looked up into his eyes. His expression was unfathomable, but he kissed her back. “We have to stop,” he said, after they’d been making out on the couch for several minutes. Darcy--busy nuzzling the stubble on his jawline and trying to wiggle into his lap, looked up in dismay.

“Huh?” she said.

“You’re wasted,” he said. “Also, I don’t have sex with people I’ve kidnapped. I feel like that’s a solid rule.”

“Never?” she said, eyebrows raised.

“Are you seriously suggesting it’s a good idea? I mean, we’ve got issues of consent here--we’re both drunk, you’re technically a hostage, that seem right to you?” he asked.

“I’ve had sex with much weirder people than you in weirder places, obviously,” she said, snickering.

“Who? Where?” he said curiously.

“Umm, in a treehouse in high school, once with a guy named Lars in a sauna circa the Chitauri invasion, in a haunted house, and, uh, during a museum tour, Ian and I snuck off and left Thor and Jane with the tour guide,” she said. She shrugged. “I just like sex,” she said.

“Uh-huh,” he said.

“Are you dissing my sex positiveness?” she said.

“Have you forgotten you’re engaged to that guy?” Brock said wryly. Darcy froze and then clapped a hand over her mouth.

“Whoops,” she said, slightly muffled.

“You did! You got wasted and totally forgot you were engaged,” he said.

“I remembered, but my mouth forgot,” she said.

“Just your mouth?” he said wryly.

“Shut up,” Darcy said.

“You sexually harassed that poor, hapless intern and then threw yourself at me despite being engaged to him and no one will ever believe me because you’re all pretty,” he scoffed.

“You think I’m pretty?” she said, delighted.

“They’ll accuse me of giving you Stockholm Syndrome,” he grumbled.

“I don’t know, maybe they wouldn’t?” she said.

“With my face?” he said.

“They’ve been running that photo of you from the Brazil mission on the news a lot,” Darcy told him. “It’s a really good photo.” It was. A very good photo.

“The one of me leading out those hostages?” he said.

“You had a really big gun,” Darcy said, grinning.

“Stay on your side of the couch,” he told her sternly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drunk Brock, of course, sent the whole unedited clip, instead of the segment he meant to send.


	4. What To My Wondering Eyes Should Appear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing!

When Darcy woke up the next morning, Brock was cooking. “What is that smell?” she asked. Her mouth was dry and her head was pounding.

“Bacon,” he said. “You eat pork?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Do I have to move?”

“No, but you do have to chew and keep the bacon away from Gracie and the little guy--”

“I have to sit up? I think I can mana—whoo, I gotta go slow,” Darcy said. He chuckled. “How are you okay?” she asked.

“Serums,” he said. “Come have your toast.” It was oddly domestic, Darcy thought. He made her breakfast and they curled up on the couch and watched television.

“You’ve never seen _The Great British Bake-Off_?” she said, shocked. She was making him watch the British holiday ones and the American Christmas spin-offs.

“I rob banks,” he said.

“Just because you rob banks doesn’t mean you can’t watch PBS,” she pointed out. “The American holiday ones used to be hosted by the _My Big Fat Greek Wedding_ lady, but this year they got Baby Spice.” He started to laugh. “What?” Darcy said.

“That is a sentence that only makes sense to you and some very fucked up tv executives,” Brock said. “More coffee?”

“Yes, please,” she said. He got up and went into the kitchen. “I think I like being kidnapped.”

“What?” he said.

“Usually, I bring people coffee and food. This is like a vacation for me,” she told him. “And there is you,” she told the chihuahua. “I love you, you little cutie!” She scrunched her face at him and he wagged his tail and did a little play bow at her.

“Thanks, honey,” Brock said dryly, when he came back with the coffee.

They spent several hours like this and Darcy even tried to convince him to kiss her again. “You’re engaged,” he reminded her.

“You see a ring?” she said, wiggling her finger.

“No,” he said.

“Please?”

“What is that face?” he said. She was batting her eyelashes and looking pitiful.

“This is my begging face, the chihuahua taught me. Watch me do sad blinks. Do I need to play a Sarah McLachlan song to make this more effective?” she asked.

“I’m going to go see if you ransom money has been wired yet,” he said. He stood up and moved towards his laptop.

“No, don’t leave me! Thousands of Darcys are cold and alone this holiday season. Only you can help! For just ten kisses a day--”

“You’re insane,” he said. “People think I’m crazy, but you, you’re really out the---”

“What’s wrong?” she said, when he went a little pale.

“Fuck. Fuck,” he said. “I sent the wrong goddamn ransom video. Fucking technology. I hate all technology that’s not a gun,” he complained. She hopped up from the couch and came to peer over his shoulder.

“Which one did you sen--oh, that’s bad. That totally blows your cover as a baddie,” Darcy said, looking over his shoulder at the laptop. They watched the whole clip. “Look, there you are, Gracie! Little guy! You're both famous."

"Oh my fucking God," Brock said.

"Do we kiss at all?” Darcy said, untroubled. She thought it was funny. She wondered if Jane had made the cookies yet. At least everyone knew she was fine.

“No. Do you not remember where I kissed you?” he said.

“In here or on my person?” she teased. She leaned down and kissed the side of his face. He sighed.

“Stop that, I can’t flirt right now, this is an emergency. I’m so fucked,” he said. “They’ve got images of my face now. And my pets.”

“You know, I could get you a presidential pardon. Probably,” Darcy said, running her fingers through his hair. He liked having his scalp scratched, she’d realized.

“Excuse me?” Brock said.

“I know Tony, Tony’s buddies with the presidents. He and Rhodey rescued Ellis from that guy, what was his name?” Darcy said. “The Clementine?”

“The Mandarin,” Brock correctly dryly.

“You picked a much cooler new identity, it’s actually scary,” she told him.

“Thank you,” he said politely. “I try. I still don’t see how that results in a pardon for me--what are you doing?” he said. She’d filched the phone from his pocket.

“Calling Tony. That was my first theft! I stole your phone while you were passed out last night,” she said.

“You didn’t leave?” he said. He stared at the phone, then back at her. “Why didn’t you leave?” he asked.

“I didn’t want to leave,” she said, as if that should be obvious. “Hey, Tony, this is Darcy, yeah, I’m fine, don’t worry. Listen, can you get Brock a pardon? No, no, I don’t have Stockholm Syndrome. Really, I don’t. We have amazing chemistry. I know, it’s not the norm. He’s very cute, too. Everyone I know has shot people--”

“Just hang up the phone,” Brock said.

“Look at it this way, you have a chance to show Steve _exactly_ how his ‘second chances for very bad guys I happen to be in love with’ philosophy feels when it’s someone he doesn’t like. Brock, tell Tony how much Steve hates you,” Darcy said.

“I tased him repeatedly in an elevator once,” Brock said into the phone.

“Really?” a voice on the other end said.

“Yes,” Brock said. “He hates me a lot. He probably tries to pretend he doesn’t, but he does. He has hatred in his heart.”

“Oh, that’s a good one,” Darcy said to Brock.

“You think so?” Brock asked.

“You’re so cute when you make that face,” Darcy said. “Tony, he’s doing the most adorable skeptical face like, ‘eh?’ It’s ridiculous. I thought that would interest you.” Brock stood up. “Where are you going?” Darcy asked, as he went into the other room.

“I have to go,” Brock told her. “I’m packing a bag. My cover’s totally blown, I need to reestablish it.”

“Tony, please work on that pardon, okay?” Darcy said. She hung up and followed Brock into the bedroom. The dogs trotted after her. “But we’re going, too?”

“No, you are not going,” he said.

“What?” she said.

“I’ll drop you and the dogs off at a safe location,” he promised.

“You’re just leaving us?” she said.

“You can’t go with me, it’s too dangerous. We’re not Bonnie and Clyde,” he said.

“I’d look really good in a beret,” Darcy mused.

“What’s gotten into you? They died. I know you’ve seen the movie,” he said, staring at her.

“I like you?” she said. “I don’t want you to die in a hail of gunfire? Also, I'm just a hat person.”

“How would going with me help that?” he said.

“You’d be more cautious if I was there,” she said. “Me and the dogs.” He sighed.

“I can’t stay,” he said. He went back to packing and Darcy looked at him. She tilted her head thoughtfully, looked at the dogs, who were sitting at her feet, and nodded. Then she launched herself at his back. “What are you doing? No. Get off me,” he said. “No. Stop that.”

“Nope,” she said, wrapping her legs around his hips. “You’re not going anywhere without us.” She squeezed her legs more as he tried to gently pry her off. She resisted, he tried again, and she wiggled sideways, so she was bracketing his hip instead of his back.

“Why are you clinging--ow, did I teach you grappling holds when we were drunk?” he asked.

“Nope,” Darcy said, grinning. She laughed, when he tried to gently pry her away and they collapsed onto the bed. Somehow, she ended up still wrapped around him, but half underneath him. “Whoops,” she said.

“I must have taught you something?” he said, incredulous.

“Nope, this is the Lewis family crab hold. My cousins and I used to fight a lot as kids. If you wrap your legs around somebody, your hands are free to pull their hair or scratch them,” she explained.

“What, no headbutting?” he said wryly. Their faces were very close.

“We were all girls. The rule was, the first person who screamed lost,” she said, leaning up to kiss him.

“You gonna make me scream?” he said jokingly.

“Mmmhmm, I don’t really want to pull your hair, though,” she said. Her legs were still wrapped around his waist, so she squeezed him a little again. “I bet I could find other ways.”

“Yeah,” he said, kissing her. It was a very good kiss, Darcy reflected. Just as good sober as when drunk. He paid particular attention to her upper lip, playfully teasing her with his tongue. “This is such a bad idea,” he whispered. “Just terrible.”

“Isn’t it funny how alluring a terrible idea is sometimes?” she said, sliding her hands towards the waistband of his pants.

“Just once,” he said, kissing her neck, “just once I’m going to break a rule and if anybody asks it’ll always be because you were too just too damn beautiful to resist--”

“Awww,” Darcy said.

“--I won’t be telling them that you manhandled me onto my laundry and smelled like toast and bacon,” he said.

“Some people find bacon to be incredibly sexy,” Darcy said. She pulled his shirt off slowly, then grinned.

“What?” he said, looking down at his scarred abs. “The scars are bad--” he began.

“Oh, no, I was thinking that I’d need to leave extra cookies for Santa. He sends me such good gifts,” she said, laughingly kissing him again. He returned her kiss passionately and pressed her back into the mattress. “Oooh,” she said. “Where’d that come from?”

“You really want me even with all this?” he said.

“Uh-huh,” she said, nodding. “Totally.” He started frantically undressing her. “I think you threw my bra on Gracie,” Darcy said, giggling, as the dog walked out of the room, bra on her back. “Look, she’s fleeing, she doesn’t want to see us have sex!” He looked up from where he was kissing her belly.

“She’s very polite. I raised her well,” Brock said, pulling Darcy’s jeans down and tossing them onto the floor. Darcy wiggled her legs happily. “You are entirely too excited about having sex with me,” he said, as she unbuttoned his pants.

“I miss sex,” Darcy said. “I haven’t in months and months--like five or six months?” She sighed.

“What about the British guy?” he said.

“He’s been...distant. Geographically, then sexually on his last visit, now geographically again. I think there’s someone else in England, I just didn’t want to fight about it on the phone and have a nasty breakup at Christmas. Ohhhh, hello,” she said, sliding down his boxer briefs.

“I’m not distant,” he said wryly.

“Nope,” she said, grinning broadly. “You’re very present. Condoms?”

“Uh-huh,” he said, fishing some of out the pocket on his go bag. Once he’d put one on, she tilted her knees open.

“My present all wrapped?” she joked.

“It’s really too bad I can’t put a bow on it for you, babe,” he said, climbing on top of her. “Another time.” When he pushed into her, she gasped.

“That feels so great. So great. Ughhhhhhhh,” Darcy moaned.

“It has been a long time,” he teased, “I’m not even moving yet. You’re going to love this.” He squeezed the back of one of her thighs, shifting her knee on top of his shoulder.

“I should have done more yoga!” Darcy said, laughing. “Ahhh! Oh. Oh God, you--you--” she stuttered.

“What?” he said. “More than you can handle?”

“Ohhhhhhh, fuck,” she muttered. He leaned down to kiss her gently.The kiss was soft. Disarmingly so. It startled her when he followed it with a sharp thrust that pushed her thigh closer to her torso. “Oh, oh God,” she said. “So much.”

“So much what?” he said.

“Sensation,” she gasped, stuttering. It was like he was stretching her entire body. “Uhhhhhhhh,” she moaned when he did it again. And again. Abruptly, he stopped. “Don’t do that,” she whined. “Don’t stop. So mean to me.”

“Uh-uh, we gotta do both legs, baby,” he said, shifting back to slide her thigh down onto the mattress again, so it was next to his hip. With something like affection, he rubbed his hand at the apex of her thighs. Then he pulled her other leg over his shoulder. “You need to stretch your hamstrings more,” he said mildly. “I’m going to get some pushback from this one, I can tell,” he teased. “I’ll have to go harder.” He leaned down, pushing her thigh into a stretch without entering her. Then he kissed her again. She could feel his erection brushing against her.

“So close,” she said.

“Uh-huh,” he said, kissing her with agonizing slowness.

“How are you so calm?!” she said, wild with desire. When he wasn’t moving inside her so intensely that all she could do was feel and rock in response, she was so turned on that she wanted to kiss him, scratch him, suck at him. Simultaneously. It was crazy, she thought. She’d never felt this way about anyone before.

“Oh, I’ve had sex in the last five months,” he said, grinning.

"With who?" Darcy said.

"Oh, somebody has a jealousy problem," Brock teased, pressing himself inside her again. She whined a little.


	5. A Wink of His Eye and a Twist...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Y'all are amazing. I am having so much fun with this one!

“Brock?” Darcy called when she woke up, several hours and rounds of sex later. She was alone in the bed. Well, almost alone. Mr. No-Name Dog was asleep on the pillow next to her. She got up, wrapping herself in the blanket, and walked out into the living room. “Brock?” she said. There was no one there. At the sound of her voice, Gracie bounced over, then went back to the door, whining. “Did he leave?” Darcy asked the labrador. Had Gracie been capable of nodding, Darcy was fairly sure she would have nodded. That was when she spotted one of the Post-Its from her bag stuck to the coffee table. She sat down on the couch to read it. _Take care of the dogs,_ he’d written. “Okay,” Darcy said out loud, “but when are you coming back?” She assumed he’d left for errands or something. His laptop was still here. Was his go bag still here? Leaving the blanket on the couch, she walked back into the bedroom. No bag. “Shit,” Darcy said. Just then she heard the dogs bark and a thump. “I want you to know, you made me think you’d really left me--” Darcy began, walking out into the living room.

“Darcy, are yo--?” Steve Rogers said. Then Captain America turned away abruptly. Thor was kneeling next to him, petting Gracie.

“Greetings, Darcy! You are quite well, are you not? She is well,” he said to Steve, unperturbed by Darcy’s being one-hundred percent naked. “This is an excellent dog,” he said.

“How did you find me?” she asked, stunned.

“Rumlow sent us an email with your location. He appears to have fled,” Steve said.

“He actually left! We had sex and he left me?” Darcy said.

“Um, what’s happening here? Did she say what I think she said?” Tony’s voice was audible over Steve’s comms device.

“Tony of the Starks is outside,” Thor said cheerfully. He’d picked up the chihuahua and was letting the dog kiss his face. He giggled. Steve--still looking at the wall--cleared his throat.

“Did you want to get a robe or something?” Steve asked Darcy.

“Sonofabitch,” Darcy said, turning around and heading back towards the bedroom.

“My little sister, the Captain dislikes such language!” Thor called.

“Is she gone yet?” Steve asked.

“Yes,” Thor said. Just then, a half-naked Darcy marched out of the bedroom. She’d pulled on her underwear and leggings when she had a thought.

“We need to remember to take his laptop,” she told Steve.

“Darcy, shirt,” he said, looking at his feet.

“Oh,” she said. “That, too. But I’m going to find him and give him a piece of my mind. I am so pissed at him right now!” she said. She turned on her heel and disappeared again.

“Aye,” Thor said agreeably.

“Why are you agreeing?” Steve asked.

“It is better to agree,” Thor told him. “Always agree with Jane and Darcy.” He looked at Gracie and smiled. “Do you have a ball of tennis?” he asked Steve.

“In my uniform?” Steve said. “Nope.” He shook his head.

“Clint keeps one. I believed it to be a custom,” Thor said, shrugging.

“And another thing--” Darcy began, emerging from the bedroom in her bra and pants. Steve groaned.

Steve was still slightly mortified and unable to look Darcy in the eye when the stories about Brock’s overnight pardon hit the news websites the next morning. “Tony, how did you do this so fast?” Darcy asked, looking at the CNN homepage.

“Uh, that’s not me,” Tony admitted. “I haven’t heard back from the president. I’ll call Rhodey.” But Rhodey didn’t know. No one seemed to know. 

It was the first salvo, Darcy realized Christmas week, in an actual Crossbones media tour. First, Brock ditched her, then he obtained a pardon by means unknown, then it was announced that he would be doing a sit-down interview with NBC News in January. They watched in astonishment as positive stories about him appeared in _The Washington Post_ over the holiday _._ He actually called in and was a phone guest on _The Rachel Maddow Show,_ talking about international security and human rights. But he never freaking called Darcy. “I’m keeping his dogs,” she fumed at Jane on the day after Christmas. “I don’t care if he has a pardon. We’ll fake a relinquishment of custody form, say he gave up all parental rights to them.” She had spent all of Christmas Day trying to fake cheerfulness and had sat in her room crying that night. The dogs were very comforting. 

“Do they have that for dogs?” Jane said.

“They should. He’s a deadbeat dog dad!” she said.

“May we name the little one?” Thor asked happily. Darcy had been holding off on a new name, hoping Brock would come back to her and they could do it together.

“Yes,” Darcy said firmly. She looked at the little chihuahua. “I’m sorry your daddy is trash.”

“Darce,” Jane interrupted significantly, “you have a phone call.”

“Brock?” Darcy said hopefully. Jane shook her head.

“ _Ian_ is calling to wish you a Happy Christmas,” Jane said.

“I’ll take it in the kitchen,” Darcy said.

“Just break up with him,” Jane muttered.

“I’m not going to be single while he does a _press tour_ and flirts with Rachel Maddow,” Darcy hissed.

“I don’t think he really was flirting--” Jane began, but Darcy had started making furious snake noises, so she went to hide behind Thor and Gracie.

Darcy was still fuming after New Year’s came and went without a call, an email, even a damn tweet from Brock. He had an official Twitter account now. They’d given him the little blue check. “The asshole ghosted me!” Darcy said, holding onto her free hot cider, one night when they were shopping. “And his pardon went through, so I can’t even send him to jail--”

“For what?” Jane said. “You can’t send someone to jail for spurning you and your Stark pardon to get his own mysterious pardon,” she pointed out.

“And his own book deal,” Natasha said. They’d found out about it at dinner. Penguin Random House had given him a six-figure deal and it was already being talked about on the morning news. He’d also announced a planned clothing line in China and was supposed to be on the cover of the March issue of _Men’s Fitness._ People on Twitter were fixated on his absurdly low body-fat percentage; #rumspo was a freaking fitness hashtag now.

“Darce, don’t you think it’s time to let this one go?” Jane said gently.

“He had sex with me--extraordinarily good sex--and then he left!” she said. “It’s a crime against womanhood to leave me like that to become a frigging celebrity!” Darcy insisted. Another shopper turned to look at her curiously.

“We’re at a Williams-Sonoma cooking event,” Jane said, torn between laughter and scolding. They were standing slightly farther back as the salesperson demonstrated a waffle maker. Darcy had impulsively decided to replace the one broken by Grant Ward’s skull, while Thor went home to walk Grace and the newly-named chihuahua.

“So?” Darcy said, feeling a little punchy. “Let ‘em try something with me, I’ll tase ‘em.” Jane sighed.

“Isn’t that what your grandma used to say in the nursing home when she had dementia?” Jane asked.

“No, no, she just always asked if you had a boyfriend and then if you said no or that men were too much trouble, she’d demonstrate how to slap them when they got out of line. Alzheimer’s Grandma Lewis was so fun. She thought she was sixteen. That’s what she’d tell you if you asked her age sometimes. Did I tell you the story about how they caught her in bed with a guy--”

“On his first night in the facility?” Jane said.

“She sounds fun,” Natasha said.

“Heck yeah. Go Grandma! Had her pants off and everything. She was never that fun when I was little. She just gardened and went to church. Don’t let me be like that, Jane. I don’t wanna garden,” Darcy moped. When she drank, she got maudlin about marrying Ian and getting too square. She and Ian were still semi-engaged. “All that time in my childhood, I thought she was a total prude and then she became the wicked woman of that Alzheimer’s unit. She had a younger boyfriend once--have I told you about Jim?”

“Uh-huh,” Jane said, laughing. Darcy’s grandmother had morphed from an incredibly uptight Baptist church lady to a swearing seductress in her 70s, once the disease made her memories regress to her teen years. Darcy was slightly paranoid that--given her theory that her grandmother had been fun once in her youth--that Ian was going to make her boring and uptight in middle-age. She was also really hung up on Rumlow. Jane thought it might be that he was a convenient way of escaping some inner pressure to be more grown up. Personally, Jane didn’t give a rat’s ass if Darcy grew up at all. “Jim was in his late 50s. Early onset,” Jane explained to Natasha.

“My grandma was in her seventies. And Jim didn’t leave her!” Darcy said, watching the waffle demo.

“Wasn’t it a locked unit?” Jane said.

“Well, if you’ve got to be technical, he couldn’t leave, no. They had WanderGuard ankle thingies, too,” Darcy said. “One time Grandma got out into the parking lot and tried to hitchhike with somebody. When do we get waffle?”

“I will get it for you, so you do not get burned,” Natasha said placatingly, wading into the crowd. _Thank you_ , Jane mouthed. Darcy had had wine at dinner.

“He could at least acknowledge that I have his pets,” Darcy said stubbornly, as they left the gourmet store. Jane had bought extra hot chocolate and the last peppermint bark tin for Darcy.

“But what if he wants them back?” Jane said, worried. Thor would be devastated. She loved them, too. You could talk to Gracie about your problems and she listened without judging you.

“He’s not taking those dogs from me. Oh, fuckdoodles,” Darcy said, stopping in front of a window display at the adjoining bookstore. Her New Year’s resolution was to have more fun, fixate on Brock less, but he was _everywhere._

“What is it?” Natasha asked.

“Will you look at that? It’s just a big image of his face!” she said. It was a poster for his upcoming book. The cover design had his face split by a thick black line resembling a redacted bar with the title in white typewriter font. Above the title, his image was tinted red and he was Crossbones--all scarred and burned around his eyes. Below, his face was blue and unmarred, that sharp jawline and smirk smooth and flawless.

“It is an interesting book jacket,” Natasha said.”I do not think _Trial by Fire_ is a terribly original title, though.”

“It looks like Andy Warhol. He is so--ugh, ugh!” Darcy said. “I’m so furious. How is he doing this? A PR firm?”

“How is he writing about it? He should be covered by nondisclosure agreements,” Natasha mused. The subtitle of the book was _A SHIELD Agent’s Life Inside HYDRA._

“A SHIELD agent?” Darcy said, noticing it for the first time. “Is he trying to pretend he was loyal? Wait--”

“With a forward by James Buchanan Barnes,” Jane read aloud, seeing the small type at the bottom of the poster. “Holy shit. What is going on?”

“Someone is pulling strings,” Natasha supplied.

“Fury,” Darcy and Jane said in unison.

They gathered at the apartment on the night of Rumlow’s NBC interview in early January. To everyone’s surprise, he was healed. He’d returned to his pre-Uprising appearance. When she saw his face, Darcy made an involuntary little sound. “You’re a little different-looking than I expected, Commander Rumlow?” Lester Holt said.

“It’s different from what I expected, too, Lester. I owe it all to Dr. Helen Cho,” he said, smiling. “I’ve got my face back. My life back.” Holt was interviewing him in a studio, but first they walked around his old neighborhood in the Bronx. Rumlow bought him pizza and cannoli and took him to the freaking botanical gardens. From her spot on the couch, Darcy fumed. Hearing Brock’s voice, Gracie’s ears perked up.

“This is a horrible thing to do to a dog--” Darcy began to rant.

“Shhhh,” everyone else said.

“This must be an incredible transformation for you?” Holt said on-screen, as they ate pizza. “Were you ever tempted to give up? Throw in the towel?”

“Well,” Rumlow said, with a politician’s smoothness, “a SEAL never gives up. Even when I was secretly working for SHIELD while embedded in HYDRA, my service to the country, my feelings of patriotism, they kept me going.”

“What makes you different? Strong enough to survive?” Holt asked.

“Me? I’m just a kid from the Bronx, Lester,” Rumlow said, looking appropriately modest. “I’m an average guy who worked hard. America--this neighborhood, these places--made me who I am.”

On the couch, Steve made a noise. “He stole that kid line from me--” Steve began.

"Gino's pizza, huh?" Holt said.

"Absolutely," Rumlow said winningly.

“Shh,” Natasha said. Steve made a _hmmmpfh_ sound. It got worse as Rumlow described his work as a secret triple-agent, low-key bragged about his SEAL missions, and talked about “how difficult it was” to keep secrets from the Avengers.

“I feel a deep sadness in my heart for Steve Rogers,” Rumlow said. “He’s a true hero. The man’s been through so much. He’ll never be able to have the life he imagined.”

“Is that how you became friends with James Barnes?” Holt asked.

“One of the reasons, yes. Bucky is a good friend,” Rumlow said. “Went out to see him recently. We did a bit of sparring--”

“What?!” Steve yelled.

“Where would that be?” Holt asked.

“Now, you know that’s classified,” Rumlow said, grinning. “But I hope we can get Bucky back home soon. James Barnes deserves a pardon. That’s my next goal.”

“Along with a Chinese clothing line and a cameo in Stallone film?” Holt prodded gently.

“Hey, a kid from the Bronx has to dream,” Rumlow said. He flashed Holt a big smile. “I’ve been a _Rocky_ fan my entire life. This is an amazing experience.”

“He’s actually charming,” Jane said. Thor nodded. Natasha looked calculating, her head tilted at an angle.

“He’s a con artist!” Darcy yelled. Steve nodded vehemently.

"This isn't right," Steve said. But by far the worst moment was at the end, when Lester Holt asked if there was anyone for him to share these “amazing experiences” with? In response, Brock smiled with his white teeth.

“Well, you know, Lester, there is the dream of somebody special,” Rumlow said.

“Nobody special right now?” Holt said.

“I spent most of my time working or at the gym, honestly. It’s a little bit embarrassing. What I’d really love to have is someone to watch PBS with. I have a little bit of a _Great British Baking Show_ obsession right now, so the dream is being curled up on the sofa with my girl and my dogs, watching people make crazy pastries,” Rumlow said.

“Do you eat stuff like that?” Holt said.

“God, no, I can’t,” Rumlow said, laughing. He patted his belly.

“Liar! He doesn’t even know who Mary Berry is! Ask a follow-up question, Lester!” Darcy yelled.

“So, you don’t have a favorite cake?” Holt asked.

“Yes!” Darcy said. "Nail him, Lester!" Jane snorted.

“Oh, for me, I think it’s probably panettone. I’m crazy about panettone,” Rumlow said.

“He kidnapped me and my panettone!” Darcy yelled.

“I heard how much he likes your panettone,” Jane whispered.

“Shut up, I’m upset here,” Darcy said. She checked Twitter. The damn interview was trending. Women were tweeting at him about his juicy lips and his good hair. "Argghhghg," she said. "I'm mad now."

“You’re not the only one,” Steve muttered.

A furious Steve put Fury on speakerphone. “I just want an explanation for what is happening here?” Steve said. “It’s a question of trust. History is being rewritten to portray _Brock Rumlow_ as a loyal SHIELD ag--”

“It’s good for the agency, Captain Rogers. The health of the agency is crucial for the future. Sergeant Barnes agrees with me. I’m surprised you didn’t know about this,” Fury said smoothly. “Didn’t think you missed much, Rogers.”

After they hung up, Steve ran a hand through his hair. “Bucky didn’t mention it, huh?” Darcy said. She knew Steve and Bucky had some sort of extremely tentative, slow-burn romance happening. They weren’t _just_ friends, but they weren’t quite a couple yet, either. Thor had mentioned how they looked at one another. 

“He kept it from me,” Steve said, pacing. The dogs and Thor watched him in concern. “Kept a secret like this, helping scrub up Rumlow’s reputation for SHIELD?” Steve said. “It’s not right.”

“Fury is correct, though,” Natasha said. “This new story makes Rumlow look like a hero. It’s excellent publicity for the agency.”

“I’m still trying to figure out how it all happened?” Jane said. “One week, he’s kidnapping you because they froze his accounts, the next week, he’s getting their help with a public relations campaign?”

“Complete bollocks,” Darcy said, using one of Ian’s favorite swear words. She didn’t think Steve would get it. “Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks.”

“Language,” Steve said, sighing heavily.

“Dagnabbit, how’d you know that one?” Darcy asked.

“Monty Falsworth,” Steve said, smiling. Then he frowned. “I can’t believe Bucky is keeping stuff from me like this,” he said.

“Does it make you just want to yell _language?”_ Darcy asked.

“Yeah,” Steve admitted, “it does.” Darcy nodded. “Sitting here wondering what else he’s up to when he’s out there in Wakanda, growing his hair out all pretty,” Steve muttered. Darcy nodded again, more emphatically.

“You think you have a connection with somebody, wham, they ghost you and become a tv celebrity and don’t even send a check for their dogs’ heartworm meds,” she told Steve.

“Uh-huh,” Steve said.

“I’ve got an idea,” Natasha said wryly, looking up from her phone. “Rumlow is doing a book signing this week at American University. Why don’t you go?”

“Why wait that long?” Darcy said. “He just tweeted a photo of himself having rosé with Senator Schipp at Marcel’s, he’s here now. Steve, let’s go confront him! We’ll take the car. I want to bring the dog. You can drive, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve said.

“I’ll get my bag,” Darcy said, getting up off the couch.

“Darce--” Jane began gently.

“What?” Darcy said.

“Are you going to wear your sock monkey pjs?” Jane asked.

"Oh," Darcy said. "I'll change. Everyone monitor his Twitter."


	6. Surprise!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos! Y'all are fantastic! It means so much to have such great support. Happy holidays!

“You’re wearing _that?”_ Jane said, when Darcy emerged in different clothes, her hair and makeup tidied.

“It’s a sweater dress,” Darcy said.

“I thought it was just a sweater,” Jane said. It was very snug.

“I have leggings underneath, I’m not going to flash Captain America my hooha,” Darcy said.“Besides, he’s totally seen it before. The whole show, ass and lady grass--” Darcy began.

Steve cleared his throat.

“Sorry, Steve!” Jane and Darcy said in unison.

“It’s okay,” Steve said. “I, uh, haven’t seen your whole show. I didn’t look,” he insisted.

“Awwww,” Darcy said. “It’s sweet that you’re trying to pretend that but I know how you remember _everything._ ” Darcy had taken to flirting with Steve, just to see him blush all pretty and look wry. It didn’t hurt her self-esteem, either.

“Yeah,” Steve said, with just the briefest flash of a grin. “Come on, Gracie.” He clipped the dog’s leash. The little chihuahua was asleep in Thor lap.

“Please do not wake him. He growls at me,” Thor said seriously. Little chi liked to sleep in Thor’s lap--Thor was warm--but he resented if Thor woke him, wiggled him, or got anywhere near a comb or doggy nail scissors.

“Okey-dokey,” Darcy said. “Cap, let’s go.”

They circled the restaurant with Gracie safely buckled in the backseat. “Do you hear him?” Darcy asked Steve.

“My ears aren’t that great,” Steve admitted. “Too much cross-talk.”

“Wait, he’s still here. He just Instagrammed a photo of his bison, fingerling potatoes, and mushrooms,” Darcy said grimly.

“Do you follow all his social media?” Steve asked quizzically.

“I’m not an actual follower, I just stalk. I have dignity,” Darcy said. “Oh my God, Steve, this place is crazy expensive.” She gaped at the menu prices listed on Yelp.

“I’m going to parallel park. We’ll wait,” Steve said.

“Aye, Captain!” Darcy said. Gracie barked.

“Wrong branch of service, Darce,” Steve said, turning the steering wheel and grinning.

They parked and Steve fed the meter. “You know,” Steve said quietly after they’d sat for a few minutes, “it would make him crazy to think we’re together. He hates me.”

“Are you suggesting we pretend to be a couple?” Darcy said.

“Yeah,” Steve said. “You’ve got social media, we could post a photo or something? You’re dressed for a date.”

“We could,” Darcy said, grinning. “Wait, isn’t there a Starbucks nearby?”

“It’s around the traffic circle,” Steve said. “Not too far. Why?”

“Let’s get coffee, pretend to be on a date while walking Gracie?” she said.

“I’ll get the coffee,” Steve said. “You and Gracie stay here, but the lookout,” he told her. He went to get out of the car, then paused. “Caramel brûleé latte?” he asked.

“Yes,” Darcy said. He knew her usual holiday order.

“Venti?”

“Yes.”

“Skim milk?”

“Yes.”

“Practice kiss?” he said, a wicked glint in his eye.

“Ye--Steve!”

“Couldn’t resist, doll,” he said.

“Captain’s orders?” she teased back, but leaned forward and brushed her mouth against his lightly.

“Be right back, honey,” Steve said. Darcy watched him hurry away--Steve was fast--then looked back at Gracie stretched out in the backseat.

“Don’t tell Jane I kissed Steve,” she said. Gracie wagged her tail and it _thump-thumped_ against the door. Jane would be jelly. After Thor, she thought Steve was the best-looking guy in all the realms. Post-Ian, Darcy had stuck with brunettes, but she was beginning to see the appeal of blondes again.

Darcy had already instagrammed a flattering photo of herself, Gracie, and Seve, captioned # _coffeedatewithmycuties_ when they pretended to stroll past the restaurant. Casually. A few blocks from Marcel’s, someone stopped Steve for a photo and he obliged. “Get my girls in here, too,” he said, grinning and putting an arm around her. He was loading it on thick. He kept pretending to look at her dreamily as they walked. He adjusted her scarf, talked to Gracie, and wrapped his arm around Darcy’s waist. She snuggled his shoulder. It was very easy to pretend to be Steve’s date. “Darce,” Steve said suddenly.

“What?” Darcy said, looking up and around, trying to make her face look right. She was expecting to see Brock emerging from the restaurant with half the Senate.

“This is maybe taking advantage, but would you like to go on a real date sometime?” he said.

“What about Bucky?” Darcy said quietly. “I know you have feelings.”

“Yeah and you have feelings for Brock, but that doesn’t mean it’ll work out or that it’s the only thing I want,” Steve said.

“Are you saying you’d date me and Bucky?” she asked, wildly curious.

“Not if it upset you--” he began.

“At the same time?” Darcy asked.

“What?” Steve said.

“Like three people at dinner, three people _after_ dinner?” she asked wryly.

“Uhh, I don’t know the correct answer to that question,” Steve said, sounding nervous.

“Well, let’s say it’s a perfect world and we’re all happily consenting adults: am I the soft filling in a Steve and Bucky cookie in your imagination?” Darcy said playfully.

“Ummm,” Steve stuttered. “Ideally, yes. Or someone I also see, if you and Bucky don’t hit it off, you know?” He was blushing, but he’d set his jaw. “I’d never want you to feel uncomfortable, though. Or pressured.”

“Awwww, Stevie, that’s a very sweet offer,” Darcy said, leaning up to kiss his cheek. To her surprise, he turned his head and kissed her full on the mouth. They were kissing on the sidewalk when Gracie--who’d been sitting politely at Steve’s feet--let out a bark and a man’s voice spoke.

“Captain Rogers?” he said. They broke apart.

“Senator Schipp, it’s a pleasure,” Steve said cheerfully, Darcy’s lipstick all over his mouth. The senator was staring at them in surprise. Next to Schipp, a furious-looking Brock Rumlow was staring at them, arms crossed. “Commander Rumlow,” Steve said. “You know my girl and our dog. Darcy Lewis and this here is Miss Gracie.” Brock cut his eyes between the two of them, scowling. He looked like a surly Dolce & Gabbana model, Darcy thought. He was wearing a black suit and shirt. It would look ridiculous on most people, but on him it looked gorgeous. It was odd to see him all handsome and scarless. Darcy was glad she could cling to Steve. The sight of Brock made her knees feel weak.

“I’m Jane Foster’s assistant,” Darcy told the senator.

“She’s exceptionally clever, not just gorgeous,” Steve said.

“Steve!” She blushed demurely. “I’ve got lipstick all over you,” Darcy fussed. Schipp handed a handkerchief, so she could stand on her tiptoes to dab Steve’s mouth. “Thank you, senator. We were on a date, getting coffee,” Darcy said.

“I’m sorry I’m so messy, doll,” Steve told her. “But Gracie loves her walks and my girl loves her coffee, so we take walks sometimes,” Steve said to Schipp.

“He’s very romantic,” Darcy said.

“It’s all you, honey,” Steve said. “I’m a boring guy without her.” He leaned over and kissed Darcy again.

“You should think about settling down, Captain Rogers, it suits you,” Schipp said. Steve was all lit up.

“I tell him that all the time,” Darcy said.

“He could go into politics,” Schipp said. “Easily.” Darcy nodded. Brock--who had knelt to pet Gracie and then shifted uncomfortably as they kissed--had risen and was still glowering in an Italianate fashion.

“She says the same thing,” Steve said.

“I was a poli-sci major. I think he’d be a natural. It’s nice to meet you both,” Darcy said.

“Good to see you again,” Steve seconded. “C’mon, Gracie. Let’s go home, ladies.”

***

Darcy was sitting on her couch at 3am with a sleeping Steve--everyone else had left or gone to sleep--when there was a heavy rap on the door. Steve stirred. “I’ll get it,” Darcy told him. She answered the door. Brock was standing there, leaning against the door frame.

“Baby,” he said.

“What are you doing here?” she said, shocked.

“We need to talk,” he said. He was leaning heavily and his hair was pushed wildly in all directions.

“Rumlow?” Steve said from behind Darcy.

“Motherfucker,” Brock said, shaking his head. “Why’s he here? Are you really together?”

“Language,” Steve corrected.

“Brock,” Darcy said, as he stumbled into the apartment.

“Fuck you and your language, Cap. You took my girlfriend! You even stole my damn dog! I’m just trying to help your fucking man,” he muttered. Gracie came over to him and in his effort to lean down and pet her, he swayed and then landed on his knees. “Shit,” he said. Gracie licked his face and he put his arms around her. “I missed you, Gracie Girl.”

“You’re drunk!” Darcy said.

“My man?” Steve said.

“Your boyfriend, your Bucky,” Brock slurred. “Fury wants to get him a pardon, bring him back. So, I gotta play the good cop inside HYDRA--”

“You left me!” Darcy said. Brock looked up at her.

“Baby, I did it for you, for us,” he said, insistent. “So we could be together. Clean. I didn’t want you to be a fugitive.”

“You didn’t even send me an email. No call, no text, nothing! I saw you tell Lester Holt you were single, you Italian asshole,” Darcy said.

“Who do you think I want to watch the damn baking fucking show with, huh?” he said.

“That supermodel who tweeted about meeting you two weeks ago?” Darcy snapped. “You don’t even know who Mary Berry is!”

“You! I did it for you--she’s the old lady, okay? I know Mary fucking Berry. But I don’t know who you’re talking about. Supermodel? I don’t know any models--you kissed this asshole in the street!” Brock said, pointing at Steve. He was still on the floor. Gracie licked his face.

“Rumlow,” Steve said warningly.

“Are you with him?” Brock said morosely.

“No,” Darcy said honestly. Steve had told her to take her time deciding if she was interested.

“She could be if she wants to be,” Steve said stubbornly.

“You’re gonna break Barnes’ heart, you schmuck,” Brock slurred. “He’s in love with you and you’re just running around with my girl and my dog,”

“What?” Steve said.

“He loves you, you thick skulled---hey, where’s No Name?” Brock asked.

“Bucky loves me?” Steve said, sounding delighted.

“Are you stupid or something?” Brock said.

“Brock, be quiet,” Darcy said. He made a resentful sound.

“I’m going to call Bucky, if you’re okay with him out here?” Steve said.

“We’re okay,” Darcy told him.

“You’ve still got him, right?” Brock said. He’d circled back to dogs, she realized.

“He’s asleep with Jane and Thor,” Darcy said. Jane was the little chihuahua’s chosen person now.

“Good, good,” he said, looking at Gracie, then up at Darcy. He smiled. His eyes were glassy. “I missed you,” he said.

“You didn’t even call me on Christmas!” she told Brock angrily.

“I got you presents, baby. All this bullshit, I did it for you, all for you--”

“Sure,” she said sarcastically. She crossed her arms.

“I did!” he said. “I mean, I wanted us to have money and shit. The money was good. So, I agreed to do the clothes--” he muttered.

“Your Chinese clothing line?” Darcy said, raising an eyebrow.

“You pay a lot of attention to me for somebody cozying up to Captain Spanglepants,” Brock said.

“Hey now,” Steve said, returning.

“I’mma fight you,” Brock said, trying to stumble to his feet. “Let’s see how good you are without the shield, when I really mean it--”

“Rumlow,” Steve said, sighing.

“Sit down,” Darcy told him, moving Brock to the couch. “Nobody is hitting anybody.” Gracie followed them. “How’s Bucky?” she asked Steve.

“He loves me,” Steve said, beaming. “I’m going to Wakanda as soon as I can get a quinjet.”

Thor stumbled into the living room, chihuahua in his arms. “Commander!” he boomed. “Greetings.”

“Hey, my dog,” Brock said. Thor brought the excited chihuahua to him. Steve shook his head. Darcy looked at the three men in front of her and had an idea.

“Thor?” she said.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Can you take Steve to Wakanda now?” she asked.

“Verily,” Thor said. “Why? Is there any emergency?”

“No,” Darcy said, looking at a smiling Steve.

“He’s just a moron,” Brock said.

“I have met morons previously. I do not think he is?” Thor said. “Though he does copy me in all ways.”

“What?” Brock said.

“Steve grew a beard for a week,” Darcy said. “It was a beard of sadness. A seard.”

“It wasn’t that sad,” Steve said.

“You were moping over James of the Barneses,” Thor said. “Shall I take you to him now?”

“Yes,” Steve said.

After they left, Brock looked at Darcy. “I thought you liked me,” he said. His expression was weary. 

“You ghosted on me, I cried on Christmas,” Darcy said.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“I woke up, naked and alone, and Cap and Thor told me that you’d left. Do you know how that felt? And then you were everywhere! All over the news, in the bookstore, on _The Rachel Maddow Show_ hitting on Rachel--”

“I was not,” he said.

“I heard you! Being all flirty!” Darcy said. “Just because Rachel was a Rhodes Scholar and I wasn’t--”

“She’s also a lesbian, that feels relevant,” Brock said dryly.

“Excuse me, Steve wants to kiss boys and still would sleep with me,” Darcy said. “How do I know you and Rachel aren’t hooking up on the downlow?”

“Rachel Maddow has not expressed any more interest in sex with me than she would sex with Newt Gingrich, I promise you that,” Brock said.

“Ah ha! So you did try,” Darcy said, feeling vindicated.

“I did not,” he said. “It was a telephone interview. Telephone. What is wrong with you?”

“You ghosted on me,” she said stubbornly.

“You were kissing my longtime work nemesis in the street,” Brock grumbled. “My buzz is wearing off. Damn serums.” He petted the chihuahua and looked sad.

“When you leave, I get to kiss whoever I want. Put my lips all over that, if I feel like it!” she said.

“That how it is?” he said.

“Yes, duh, I’m single--”

“What are you--oh, it’s you,” Jane said, appearing, rumpled, in the doorway. “Where’s Thor?” Jane asked. As Darcy was explaining, the doorbell rang. “Oh God, who is it now?” Jane said.

“I’ll get it,” Darcy said. She moved over to the front door and looked through the peephole. “Oh, no,” she whispered, backing away abruptly.

“What?” Brock yelled.

“Shhh,” Darcy hissed. “It’s Ian! What is he doing here?” she whispered to Jane.

“You’re still technically engaged, remember?” Jane said.

“Single, huh?” Brock asked. He was smirking.

“I keep telling her to end things,” Jane whispered. Darcy shot him and Jane the bird, then opened the door.

“Hullo, Darce,” Ian said. “Surprise!”

  



	7. I Laughed When I Saw Ian, In Spite of Myself....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos on this really, really weird holiday fic!

“Um, hello?” Darcy said. “This is a surprise, Ian.”

“Unless she invited you, then forgot you existed,” Brock said slyly. He’d gotten up and retrieved a beer from the fridge. Jane was trying very hard not to giggle and had to flee the room, followed by the dogs, who then returned to sniff Ian. He patted them obligingly. Ian was very good-natured, if rather beige. Darcy thought it was a pity that his research interests had always dovetailed more closely with Jane’s; had he been a poli-sci intern or a lit major, they could have had a solid emotional bond of shared interests. As it was, he went on long physics tangents and she tried not to yawn. At least, not directly in his face. He was likeable when he was around, but mentally she often misplaced him.

“Brock!” Darcy said, glaring daggers at the STRIKE Commander.

“What? Jane thought it was funny, can’t you hear her laughing?” Brock said. It sounded like Jane was having a laughing fit in her bedroom.

“When did you get dogs?” Ian said, quizzically. He’d missed all the subtext in the back and forth, apparently.

“They’re _my_ dogs,” Brock said.

“No. No way. You don’t get to just leave and then decide you want them back!” Darcy said. She was thinking more of herself than the puppers, honestly.

“Who are you?” Ian said.

“I’m Crossbones--” Brock began.

“He kidnapped me,” Darcy said sharply.

“What?” Ian said.

“Briefly,” Darcy said. “He kept me at that clown amusement park, Joyland.”

“Oh, no, your clownphobia,” Ian said. “That must have been distressing.”

“We’re in love now, kid. I’m sorry,” Brock said.

“No, we aren’t!” Darcy said. “People who love people just don’t leave and then delete them from their Lester Holt interviews--”

“Oh, you’re _that_ Crossbones,” Ian said. “I saw your interview on the airplane.”

“He watches American news?” Brock asked Darcy. She thought he might be mocking Ian somehow.

“He’s very intelligent!” she said defensively.

“Well, they were running clips of it alongside a profile of Neil Degrasse Tyson--” Ian began. Darcy sighed. Catching her expression, Brock smirked.

“Listen, Boothby, I’m sure you’re a very nice, intelligent kid, but you should know that she and I are together now,” Brock said. “These are my dogs and Darcy and I are very seriously involved.”

“Really?” Ian said, looking between the two of them. “I find that difficult to believe, considering she and I have been dating on and off for, what, five years now, dear? She sometimes gives people the impression that she’s single, just because she’s so personable and engaging,” Ian said. “You’ll have to forgive her.”

“Are you drunk?” Brock asked him.

“I did have a glass of wine on the plane, but I feel fine,” Ian said seriously. “You’ll really have to let this go. I’m sure that the clowns didn’t help,” Ian said. He smiled at Darcy. “You’d naturally cling to anyone and be as charming as possible if the alternative was being alone with clowns. She’s quite terrified of them.”

“Yes, yes I would!” Darcy said.

“That explain why we had sex, huh? Several times?” Brock said. Ian looked at Darcy, then back at Brock. “Athletic, enthusiastic, loud sex?” Brock continued.

“You had sex with someone you’d kidnapped?” Ian said. “I thought you were a changed man, Mr.--er, Crossbones?”

“I am,” Brock said. “I did change. For her! And then I catch her kissing Cap in the street tonight!”

“Who?” Ian said.

“Steve,” Darcy confessed. “He and I were both upset, you see, Ian. Bucky collaborated with Brock without telling Steve, so Steve felt betrayed and I was upset with Brock--”

“Because she’s in love with me,” Brock said.

“Shut up, I am not in love with you!” Darcy said. “I’m over our short-lived thing, whatever it was. Tonight with Steve was a mistake, Ian. Poor Steve is besotted with Bucky.”

“I understand,” Ian said. “I like Steve. He’s a good guy.”

“She wanted to go on the run with me and the dogs,” Brock said.

“That sounds like something she would do,” Ian said placidly.

“The sex was amazing,” Brock prodded, looking for a weak spot.

“She’s a naturally affectionate person, I know. But really, it wasn’t fair of you, given the dynamics of the situation. I’m afraid you’ll have to listen to Darcy,” Ian said. “Although Darcy, you probably should give the dogs back, if he was under the mistaken impression that you wanted to continue seeing him--”

“Ian!” Darcy said. 

“All right, that’s it. I’mma fight him,” Brock said, plunking down his beer bottle and standing up.

“Brock, no!” Darcy said. “He’s not like us! He’s--he’s British!” She sort of threw herself between the two of them, clinging to Brock. “Ian doesn’t understand, um, how you feel?” Darcy said.

“She’s quite right,” Ian said. “I’m very mild-mannered, it’s always how people describe me. But I find it difficult to get really heated about anything, unless it’s that new spectrometer they’ve got in Helsinki. Does Jane know about it?”

“Jesus H. Christ,” Brock said. “I tell you I fucked your fiancée--enthusiastically--and you’re talking about science equipment?”

“Well, you see, Darcy, dear, that’s why I showed up. I’m afraid I’ll need to break our engagement,” Ian said. “My mother has come down very firmly in favor of me marrying Arabella Cuthbert-Carrington-Jones instead.” He sighed. “Mummy can be so difficult to reason with,” he said. “It’s why I’m so flexible and obliging, generally. She’s the opposite. I thought if we gave it long enough, she’d come around to you, but she simply refuses. I am sorry.”

“Arabella Cuthbert-Carring--” Darcy said, gobsmacked.

“Carrington-Jones,” Brock finished. His eyebrows were near his hairline.

“Yes, her parents own some land next to where my parents own land and she’s a nice girl, really,” Ian said. “She’s not you, but Mummy refuses to tolerate you in her presence. She’s threatened my doctoral funding. I have academic scholarships, of course, but Mummy pays for my flat and my groceries--”

“And will give you and Arabella everything?” Brock said wryly.

“Well, yes,” Ian said, looking sheepish. “But I’m sure you’ll bounce back, Darcy, you’re very resilient and bubbly. Men adore you.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Brock said in a low voice. Darcy had let of him, but his hand was rubbing her hip gently.

“I don’t know what to say?” Darcy said, staring at Ian in bafflement.

“Congratulations on your engagement?” Brock offered. Darcy elbowed him in the ribs. “Ow,” he said.

***

“I can’t believe he’s just here doing that,” Darcy said. She’d bundled up in a coat and taken the dogs out. Brock had gone with her because he insisted she shouldn’t do that alone at 4:45am. Ian was asleep on her couch. “Asleep on the couch!”

“Are you serious?” he said. He took the dogs’ leashes from her so she could put her hands in her coat pockets.

“What?” Darcy said. Gracie was sniffing the bushes.

“You’re in love with me,” he insisted. He kissed her, his gloved hands touching her face, and then leaned against her. “Admit it.”

“No,” she said stubbornly.

“C’mon, baby, you know we’re it,” he said.

“Nope.”

“Well, if you’re gonna snub me,” he said, turning to stroll towards the corner.

“Give me back my dogs--where are you going?” Darcy said.

“I’m taking them,” he said.

“Thief! Stop thief!” Darcy called, pursuing him. She froze. “You have a driver?” she said. The dogs were hopping into a running town car.

“Yeah, I called him,” he said. “Say hi to Stan, _60 Minutes_ sent him, they’re wooing me for an interview. I wouldn’t drive drunk now that I’m law-abiding and pretty again--” The man in the driver’s seat waved at her cheerfully. Darcy waved at Stan, but glared back at Brock.

“Give me those dogs!” she said.

“No,” he said.

“Brock Rumlooo--” Darcy began scoldingly, but her words were cut off when he scooped her up and put her in the town car. “Ahhhh, what are you doing?” she said.

“Kidnapping you again,” he said cheerfully. “Stan, my place.”

Brock had a very nice new condo in a DC luxury building. He unlocked the door and the dogs clattered in, smelling everything. “Where’s your furniture?” Darcy said. It was mostly empty.

“Haven’t bought any yet,” he said. “I thought you’d help me with that.” She crossed her arms and glared at him.

“I’m not a pushover,” she told him.

“No,” he said, focusing all the Cradle-healed smolder on her. Darcy felt a little weak in the knees. He was so handsome now. It was a lot. A lot. “You want a drink?” he asked.

“So, you have food here?”

“I’ve got frozen pizza and champagne?” he offered.

“Yeah, you _haven’t_ been seeing other wo--” she began, then stopped. It was her favorite Trader Joe’s pizza. She stared at the box. “Did I mention that?”

“You were pretty wasted, but you told me it would be great with panettone,” he said. “I was going to call you, as soon as I got everything ready--”

“Everything what?” she asked.

“My outstanding warrants and my bank balance first, just so it wouldn’t be a crime to be around me and we could go to dinner, but then I got an offer about fixing my face and that was too good to turn down and then it just snowballed, baby,” he said. “I wanted to make things nice. For you. For us.” She scrunched her nose at him.

“Fine, I believe you,” she said. “At least enough to eat your pizza and drink your water--no bubbly, it’s five o’clock in the morning.”

He poured her water and brewed some coffee while the pizza was still in the oven. Then he told her crazy stories about meeting Helen Cho--”when I talked about you, she kept asking about Thor”--and what it was like to have someone ghost-writing his book.

“The ghost-writer actually interviews you?” Darcy said, surprised. “You don’t do the writing?”

“Nope, it’s mostly him recording stories and stuff and then putting it on paper. Good practice for the media interviews, though.”

“You’re not even writing your own book!” she said. “The book that makes you sound like a hero is being basically written by someone else!” He shrugged.

“I don’t make the rules, I just benefit from them,” he cracked. “God, you’re so damn pretty. How’d you get prettier over Christmas?”

“Shut up,” Darcy said. “Oh, ow, hot-hot-hot.” She fanned at her mouth. She’d burned it slightly on the pizza. He looked at her.

“Come shop for furniture with me tomorrow?” he said. “First real date with a non-criminal me?”

“How I am supposed to trust you?” she said.

“I’ll let you see my current credit score and pick out all my lamps, sweetheart,” he said.

“That’s absurd,” she told him. “Besides, everyone knows couches are the number two on the importance scale, after beds.”

“Beds, huh?” he said. “You want to see the best view in this whole place?” he asked.

“Sure,” she said. Of course, it was his bedroom.

“I did buy a bed,” he said.

“Yeah,” she said.

“You must be pretty tired, huh?” he said.

“Don’t take this as confirmation that I’m falling for your nonsense,” Darcy said, kicking off her shoes and yawning. She looked at him. “Take off your pants.”

“Wha--” he said.”You want to have sex?”

“Yes,” she said. “Also, not confirmation that I believe any of the things you tell me.” He kissed her, grinning and nibbling at her mouth.

“I’m pretty sure you’re the sexiest person I’ve ever kidnapped,” he said, once they were naked.

“Shut up, I don’t do conversation this early in the morning,” she said. Laughing, he blew raspberries on her neck and she swatted him. “Just stick it in me already!”

“Sure, sweetheart,” he said, thrusting into her. She shuddered.

“Uhhhhhhhhhh,” she moaned.

“I can’t believe you said _stick it in me_ ,” he said, laughing.

***

“Ian?” Jane said. She poked him.

“Wha?” he said.

“Where’s Darcy?” she asked. It was light outside.

“Dunno,” Ian said.

“It’s noon,” Jane said. “And Brock is gone, too--oh, no.”

***

“Hey,” Brock said to her, when they woke up the next morning. Technically, afternoon. “What’d you name the little guy? You never told me.” The chihuahua was lying on a dog bed in Brock’s room. He’d bought a bed for them and things for the dogs, Darcy noticed. He wasn’t a total trash person as a dog owner. Still, pick up a phone!

“Marshmallow,” Darcy said. He groaned.

“You named my dog Marshmallow?” he said.

“Thor picked it out.” She grinned wickedly.

“Uh-huh.”

“He was so happy,” Darcy said. “You can’t change it now, he’ll be heartbroken.” She looked at him with perfect innocence. He stared at her, then back at the dog.

“Crossbones has a dog called Marshmallow?” he said incredulously.

“His first choice was Peppermint. I did you a favor,” she told him.

“Oh.” Brock frowned.

“Like I’m letting you keep them, anyway,” Darcy said, snuggling back against Brock. “As soon as I’ve had a nap and all your champagne, Stan is helping us blow this joint.”

“What about more sex?” Brock offered.

“Okay, more sex, champagne, nap, escape,” she said.

“I don’t like that plan,” he said.

“Tough,” she said.

“You’ll have to move in,” he told her. “Then you can help me pick out a couch.”

“Please,” Darcy scoffed. “Like you really mean that.”

“You know, technically, you’re still my hostage,” he said.

"Phffft," Darcy said.

He laughed when she started to snore.

The End


End file.
